


Most Ardently

by ariesconcepts (orphan_account)



Category: Moonlight (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M, Modern Royalty, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2018-12-19 03:42:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11889231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ariesconcepts
Summary: The death of a friend spurs Sir Kevin, a disgraced knight, to coming back to the States in time for the new social season. Little does he know that New York is full of ghosts, both good and ill-intentioned.





	1. Let the Spectacle Astound You!

**Author's Note:**

> This fandom doesn't have any royalty AUs or Jane Austen-esque slowburns so! This is a slow burn but so much in the traditional sense. Chiron and Kevin do have a lot of romantic, sexual tension. We're not working towards them falling in love (because they're already in love) but working to them saying it out loud, crying in the rain or falling into each others arms. Does that make sense? Yes? Let's go!
> 
> EDIT: Hi! Everything's changed. I'm so sorry.

 On a grey stretch of highway, a Greyhound bus waited patiently for its passengers to return. Nighttime had leaned in. The starless darkness was brightened by the dim lights of the bus. Passengers stood in huddle masses dressed in winter coats and scarves and gloves, smoking and pressing close for warmth. A cloud of murmurs, of jokes, of clipped conversations rose around the heads of the people. They spoke amicably to near strangers, their journey mates, about their homes, their people they’d meet and the things they’d do once they reached their destination. White breath flitted between them. A man hugged himself and kicked at brown slush. A mother chastised her child for drifting too far.

Away from the hum of noise was a fit young man. He stood flush against the cool metal of the bus, overheated and anxious. His hands shook and a slightly bent cigarette dangled precariously from his wind chapped lips. The man clicked at a white, engraved lighter, flame flashing then disappearing beneath the silver cap. He watched as the flame flickered to life and died. The movement of his fingers, the orange glow mesmerized him for a moment, but eventually, finally, he steadied his hand and brought the flame to the cigarette.

It was a vile habit, but Kevin felt it was the one thing keeping him tethered to the spot. As the nicotine coursed its way through his system, the fear subsided and the knot in his belly began to unspool. He spoke softly to himself, mouthing encouragements that he hoped might take the terror away completely. It was a fool’s wish, Kevin knew. The only way to overcome the nerves was to do this.

And do it he would. Kevin was a knight by honor, king’s medals tucked safely into his luggage. Circumstance had led him down dark roads and brought him to his current place. There were not many passengers on this trip to New York, and he doubted any of them knew his face never mind his crime. He wondered if any remembered, really, the true nature of his sins.

Of course, _some_ remembered. Kevin recalled that fateful day when a royal decree came fluttering through the door slot. It informed him that, if he liked, Kevin was invited to return to society and realign himself with nobility. His heart nearly burst through his ribcage and tore through his skin. Of course, he wanted to come back. Of course, he wanted his position and his trappings and what could’ve been his life. 

Still, Kevin feared. He pulled his coat tighter around his form. Just his luck that he’d come from exile at the start of winter. Cigarette after cigarette could not replicate the balmy beaches of Miami. He would miss the warmth but not the solitude. The bus driver called for boarding. The crowd pulled in close. Kevin examined what remained of the pack, tucked it into his pocket and threw the stubs into the trash.

From chivalry and for kindness, Kevin let other passengers board before him. He took the arm of an old man, maneuvered a pregnant lady and wrestled two rambunctious toddlers into their seats. Kevin took his seat last, settling happily into the tight corner spot next to the window.

Though cramped the small space was comfortable. He was squeezed in by a middle-aged woman reading over wire-framed glasses. Across the aisle, a young boy played with his father’s phone as he dozed. Kevin managed to strike up a small conversation with the woman next to him. He told her, abashed, that he was going to New York for the social season. She told him, unabashed, that she was going to see her grandchild before the cancer killed her.

Kevin sat quietly after that. He could not pay attention to the music streaming from his earbuds nor could he focus on the two books he brought along. There were many miles to go before they reached New York. Outside his window, a world of highway and trees passed him by, grey silhouettes in the night. The sights blurred and soon, Kevin drifted off to sleep.

* * *

 Hours later, Kevin woke to shuffling feet. He blinked, yawned. Kevin gave his eyes a moment to adjust to the light. He rose from his seat, upper body first and then his aching legs. He tried helping again and some accepted his offer. Afterwards, Kevin made his way to the front of the bus. As he disembarked, he came face to face with a gust of ice cold wind. So long in the warm womb of the bus, Kevin forgot there was a winter waiting for him out there. He pulled his scarf over his mouth and nose, put his head down and stepped out into the night.

Kevin retrieved his bag from baggage claim. It felt heavy in the crook of his elbow though he knew hardly anything was inside. His whole life, old and new, was trapped in the duffle bag. Only memory and clothes were his companions as he crossed through the depot. He emerged on the other side, contemplative and chilly.

Standing on the taxi side of the depot, Kevin warmed his hands. It was beyond midnight, fluorescents from the depot and streetlamp the only light to see by. For a sweet, uncertain moment, Kevin imagined that he was back in Miami. Moon and shouting voices, the sound of beeping cars and jitneys. Though he could not see it, he heard sea water crashing onto pale, littered sands. 

It did not take long for him to come back to the present. How could he not with people bumping into him and the bag digging into his elbow? He had to remind himself that that time of his life was over. Kevin handled the hardest part. The crime, his penance, that unusual year in exile — here, this, now was the rainbow after the rain, the sun’s glow after years of tempestuous storms.

Though he muttered these words to himself, it was hard to believe. Five years ago, Kevin was young and foolish. He had a committed a crime, a drug hold-up suggested by a boyhood friend of his. At the time, it sounded brilliant. Reality set in when Kevin was arrested soon after on charges of armed robbery and drug possession with the intent to sell. If that was not enough, Kevin was soon to become a father. His high school love, Samantha, was pregnant and expecting their first child. With his luck, Kevin would be in prison for thirty, forty years.

There was enough misfortune on Kevin to have him completely buried in scandal. Only his position as knight and a bevy of royal lawyers was able to dig him up. Kevin was told that if he was “completely honest” and pushed the blame off onto his friend, he’d come out better for it. He fought with his morals and pathos, but in the end, Kevin could think only of his girlfriend and child. The armed robbery charges were dropped and Kevin’s lawyers finessed their way into a deal. Instead of the damning sentence, Kevin would serve just four years in prison and one year in exile.

Jail time gave him nothing to do but think. For months, Kevin felt sick with guilt and self-pity. His wallowing came to an end soon after the birth of his son. The minute he saw the boy, wrinkled and sweet-faced, he knew he had to make something of himself.Kevin was sent to work in the jail’s kitchen and he took a liking to it. He had a talent for food, making slop into home-cooked wonders. The visits from Samantha and Kevin Jr. kept him in high spirits and good order. Kevin kept his head down, followed the rules and in four years, Kevin was free.

Directly after prison came that strange gape year. Not allowed to use royal connections, Kevin had to rely on a friend from prison to set him up a job. It was nothing fancy, just a short-order cook at a little Cuban diner. Kevin loved it though, cherished every moment he had. The year in exile was meant to be punishment, but it felt to Kevin like a breath of fresh air. The music-filled hum of the diner, the sizzling grill combined with the sheer amount of _sound_ in Miami was dizzying but calm somehow. This _was_ his home. The beach, the culture, the people he met everyday — they were his.

During this year, Kevin worked. When he wasn’t working, Kevin walked the beaches or sent letters to Samantha and his son. He amassed a collection of photos and curious from her new life, pictures of KJ’s missing teeth or his latest birthday party. It tore at his chest, but each new photograph reminded him that he still had something to live for. Something waiting for him on the other side.

Kevin sighed. Night had truly settled in and the depot was emptying of its people. He barely had enough for a taxi never mind a hotel room. Kevin counted the petty change in his pocket and tucked it away. He could walk around for a while, hope to find some kind soul to take him in. The world was wild when a knight was sent begging. 

Kevin had just begun to step off the curb when he heard a familiar voice.

“Kevin!”

Kevin stepped back and turned to face the voice. It came from an older woman, afro pulled back and secured by a colorful headband. She waved her hand and stood on her toes to catch his attention.

“Teresa?” He asked, smiling, already going to her. He walked then ran, coming into her open arms and lifting her. 

“The one and only! Put me down!” 

He obeyed, laughing as he set her back onto the concrete. Teresa looked up to him. She wore no smile but a bright light shone in her dark eyes. It’s been years since Kevin had seen Teresa or even had a chance to speak to her. She was a connection to that old world of royalty, an au pair to the rich and noble. Kevin thought she might have a new family now and was raising a new generation of snobby brats. Still, Kevin had to wonder…

“What are you doin’ here? It’s been … it’s been forever!”

“Not that long,” she replied, warm hand on his arm. “I’ve come to pick you up. I’ve got a car waitin’ for us.”

“No royal motorcade? Should I feel insulted?”

“Only if you want to break your own heart.”

Teresa led Kevin away from the depot, off the curb and onto the street where a sleek, black car waited for them. Up front, a scrawny man with jumpy hands sat at the wheel. Upon seeing the two of them, he scrambled from the car and hopped to open to the door for them both.

Kevin passed the chauffeur his bag and thanked him quietly as Teresa slipped into the car. She gnawed at her lip as the door closed them. Alone in the car, Teresa turned to Kevin and said, “So much is different since you left.”

“In good ways?”

“Some good. Some _not_ so good.”

“Teresa, I have to ask.”

Teresa blinked, somewhat surprised. She composed herself, cleared her throat and nodded. “Yes, I guess you do.” Examining her slim hands, she said, “He’s fine. He’s been down in Atlanta, but I hear he’s comin’ up north for the social season.”

Kevin’s breath caught in his throat. His hands felt too warm in his gloves. He took them off, flexing his fingers. Teresa watched the nervous tic of his hands and caught one between hers. She squeezed his fingers, a kind smile etched onto her brown features.

The car took them through the city, street after street. He had been to New York once before when he was young and new to society. The city had been different back then, busy but with a different aura altogether. Kevin looked up at the skyscrapers and felt small. For years, his whole world had been squat buildings, grey and diners.

“Isn’t it crazy? How things change.”

“Yeah. Crazy,” Kevin breathed. He took in a deep breath and came back to himself. “Are we goin’ anywhere in particular.”

“My place. I thought you’d like a nice home-cooked meal on your first night back. Travis can take you home right afterwards.”

“Thank you, Teresa. You don’t have to do all this.”

“I know,” said Teresa. “But I like to help.”

Teresa’s place was a a slim townhouse in Manhattan. Though it was squeezed into pristine, white homes, her home reeked of her home back in Miami. There were potted plants on brick steps. A Cuban and Puerto Rican flag hung side by side over the door. As Kevin stepped into the apartment, Teresa asked him to take off his shoes. He left them and his coat and scarf by the day. Immediately, he was struck by the warmth and coziness of her home.

The house was well-decorated and scented with incense. Teresa was nothing if not faithful to her past. She flicked on lights, illuminating the white leather furniture and thick shag carpets. Multicolored beads separated most rooms while heavy wooden doors hid others.

Teresa took him into the kitchen. She offered a barstool for him to sit on as she fired up the gas stove.

“Seafood paella?”

“Sounds good.”

Kevin sat and watched as Teresa shellfish and sausage from the freezer. Her quick brown hands darted from fridge to stove as she made their meal. Kevin surprised Teresa by getting up halfway through the prep to start helping. She widened her eyes but made room for him. Kevin seasoned the seafood and was instructed to chop the vegetables. The navy blue cast iron pot soon filled with shellfish, sausage and yellow rice. Teresa spooned out portions for them both and set them at the dining room table with bright blue bowls and beer.

In between bites of crab and muscle, Kevin pieced together his story for Teresa. He told her about the robbery, the drug bust, how he had to choose between two codes of honor. He even told Teresa about Samantha and KJ, the years of distance laid down between them by his mistake. Through it all, Teresa remained still faced and calm. When he finished hist story, Teresa leaned in and looked at as if examining him. 

“So, that’s where you’ve been. Cookin’ in a diner, scroungin’ money. Not where I imagined you, Kevin.”

“Not where I imagined myself if I’m honest. Teresa, it’s honestly feelin’ impossible to come back. I left so much damage behind. I don’t know how to be a knight any more. I feel useless.”

“Useless? Don’t ever let me hear you say that again, you hear me?” Teresa shook her head and said, “Listen. You chose the perfect time to come back. The start of the new season can be the start of a new you. Nobody has to know what you did.” Coyly, she tried, “Not to mention there’s lots of high lords and ladies lookin’ to get married.”

Kevin choked on his beer. Sputtering, he asked, “ _Married_?”

“Yes, Kevin Jones, married. Seasons open lots of doors and can give a man a real chance to boost himself up a station.” She took a sip of beer, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I mean, what else is a useless knight to do?”

After dinner and helping Teresa straighten the kitchen, Teresa cornered Kevin and pressed a set of keys and a wad of money into his hand. The money he understood and thanked her for. It took him a moment to register what the keys were for. Pulse quickening, he looked to Teresa and protested.

“Teresa, I can’t … I can’t take these.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t deserve them. Teresa, take these back. Put the lease in your name.”

“You know, I can’t do that.” Teresa squeezed his arms and said, “Stop beatin’ yourself up for somethin’ a boy much younger and stupider did. You’ve already paid, Kevin. Take the house. It’s the very least you can do for your parents now.”

Chilled and somewhat heartbroken, Kevin left Teresa’s home. She promised to call in the morning, and he promised to return for dinner again. Travis waited out front to drive him home. New York’s traffic was a blessing for once. He had time to unwind, to adjust after a hectic day. Kevin dozed off in the car, barely aware of the passing time or streets. Before he knew it, they were parked outside of a row of red-brick brownstones.

“Sir?”

Kevin sat up straight and rolled his shoulders. He thanked the man for driving him and rejected the offer to help with his bag. As the car pulled off, Kevin looked at the row of expensive brownstones and townhouses. He knew his new old home by heart. Kevin gripped th keys, marched right up to the brownstone and slid them in. The lock turned and clicked. The door swung open.

Kevin had forgotten how huge the house was. The ceilings were high and intricately decorated with crown moulding. The windows were ceiling height and dark wooden floors echoed his footsteps. The house was, as he remembered, fully furnished and lit with its original light fixtures. Everywhere were those classic touches that couldn’t be replicated — pocket doors, brick fireplaces in nearly every room, that French range stove his mother loved. The house was well-maintained and cleaned. His parents must’ve had someone coming in even after their passing.

Heart heavy with memories, Kevin walked up the steps to the second floor. He passed his old bedroom, the guest bedrooms and bathrooms. He was stalling, mustering courage to walk into the master bedroom. Like he expected, the room still smelled of his mother’s perfume. Phantom faces primped in front of the white vanity. Shadows checked their ties and hems in the ornate mirror.

Kevin placed his bag the high, four-poster bed and then himself. He gave himself a moment to sink into the soft, plush bedding, to remember happier times spent in this room. How long had it been since his parents died? Two years? Three? He wasn’t allowed to go to the funeral. Kevin wondered if someone laid bougainvilleas on his mother’s grave and white magnolia on his father’s.

Enough, Kevin thought. No more wallowing. He unpacked his bag quickly, stuffing clothes into the mahogany dresser or hanging them up on wooden hangers. He plugged his phoneup next to an antique lamp. Pictures of Kevin Jr. and Samantha, drawn pictures from his son were placed on the fridge with magnets until Kevin could find frames.

Once his few possessions were away, Kevin could understand how much space there was. He had no clue what to do with it all. Not counting the master bed and bath, there were six bedrooms, five baths, a library and a smoking room. Kevin didn’t remember either of his parents smoking, but he took pleasure in sitting in the cloistered room puffing at a cigarette.

Kevin checked his watch. It was just a little after two in the morning. Kevin showered, brushed his teeth and switched into a pair of sweats. He crawled under the covers of his parents’ bed — his bed — and reached to switch ofd the lamp light. He was asleep within minutes, dreams of familiar faces and a sizzling grill keeping him warm through the night.

* * *

After a week in New York, Kevin decided the city, though beautiful, was very loud and tiring. He took taxis everywhere, darting to meetings with lawyers and royal associates. He’s finally and officially settled after a friendly, soft-handed man gave him a slip of paper to sign, reconfirming his status as noble. He went home that day feeling off-centered. His head pounded as he came back into the too-big brownstone. Kevin spent the rest of the day walking in a daze and watching bad daytime dramas.

Being back felt weird. Kevin began to accumulate a schedule, a massive thing that made him feel adjusted and just a little bit more real. He had so much to do and all the time to do it. If he wanted, he could call Samantha and see her and his child. He could speak with old friends, see people he was forbidden from seeing for five years.

Kevin found a day to be quiet and putter around the library. An hour into a raunch medieval romance, he heard someone knocking at his door. Confused, he frowned but lifted from his seat.

“Just a minute,” he said. He slipped a robe over his loungewear and shuffled through the house on slippers. Kevin came down the steps two at a time. From the frosted glass window, he couldn’t see much save for a tall, grey silhouette. 

Kevin opened the door to a balding man dressed in fine livery. The man bowed deeply, tight constipated look on his face as he addressed Kevin. He held in his white-gloved hands a silver platter. On that silver platter was a creamy white envelope with a deep blue wax seal.

“There’s mail for you, Sir.”

“Mail? Any idea of who it’s from?”

“Not my place, Sir. Though I do believe that _reading_ the envelope might give you a clue.”

Kevin snorted at a the man’s smart remark and then took the offered letter from the platter. The envelope felt expensive and well-made, and the blue wax was stamped with a crescent moon with stars. He nodded to the delivery man and dismissed him before stepping back into the house. In the library, he examined the envelope. There was no name on it save for his and no clue where it came from sat at the desk and opened the letter. A folded sheet of paper and a R.S.V.P card waited for him.

The paper was a formal invitation to a masquerade ball. It was to be thrown a week from then, late Saturday night. The season was starting early, Kevin supposed. Kevin studied the paper, took in the address and dress code, but learned nothing more about its sender. He figured it might be nice to get out of the house. A big ball would be a good chance to integrate himself into society though he wasn’t looking forward to being grilled by nobility. He began to write his acceptance and check ‘yes’ on the card when a thought occurred to Kevin.

_He_ might be there. Kevin’s stomach lurched. Could he bear it? It’s been so long but there are wounds and catastrophes not even time could heal. There was no prison for broken hearts, for betrayal. Kevin thought of that deep dark face, those beseeching but angry eyes that have haunted him throughout his years, throughout prison.

With a shaky hand, Kevin stood over the antique desk and wrote in his R.V.S.P. His heart pounded as he slipped the letter into the mailbox and as he returned to the library. Kevin fell into the desk chair, exhausted. He draped a hand over his face. It was done, but he wouldn’t be calm until Saturday.

* * *

It was Saturday night, and Kevin’s stomach was boiling.

It wasn’t right for him to be here. He shouldn’t have been in the fine manor. The words repeated themselves in Kevin’s mind and echoed all of his insecurities. He stood in the grand ballroom, dangling lights and brilliant costumes overwhelming his senses. He felt sick. Wasn’t it only two years ago that he was in prison? Wasn’t it only a year ago that he was a line cook, a peasant by most’s standards?

That’s the part of the draw of a masquerade ball, Kevin supposed. People could come from far and wide to put on their false faces. Drink, eat, be merry and pretend. Masks were slipped over the faces of monsters, turning them into heroes, into masters of wit and culture. Everyone felt free to toss aside their positions and titles for just a few hours to become something different. Earl into a cat, lady into a clown — a lowly knight into a jack of hearts.

_Or a jackass_ , Kevin thought. Through it all, Kevin felt uneasy. His rank, though honorable to some, was low. Most of the people at the ball were lords and ladies, high earls and dukes. His knighthood felt like a suit of rags, pitiful next to royal peerage.

Not to mention, Kevin was broke. Yes, he dressed in the fancy black tailcoat jacket and a pristine white collar, was a pauper. He only had a few thousand to his name. He wore a red _colombina mezza_ , decorated with white and silver hearts. The mask covered only his eyes and cheeks and a slim section of his nose. If someone wanted, they could see straight through his disguise and into his truest self. He wasn’t convinced, still, that this was not an elaborate prank. Kevin waited impatiently for the vat of pig’s blood to be thrown over his head.

Kevin took in a sharp breath. He shook his head, raised it. If he was invited here, he belonged here. Someone, somehow, believed he still had a place in the world of nobility. There were bigger, better men in this room, and Kevin was being given the unique opportunity to stand among them. Wasn’t tonight a party? Though he felt out of place, he would be remiss and a liar to say he was not seduced by the display. The music, the costumes, the jeweled masks and cloaks. How easy it was for his heart to be swayed, for his heavy spirit to unspool into string.

The knight pushed himself off the wall and into the thrumming crowd. He slipped on the winning smile and out came the persona of the charming, heartbreakingly handsome knight. The reaction was immediate. Quickly, Kevin accumulated a crowd of people around him. They were all eager to shake his hand or curious to know where he had been. He told a kinder version of the real story, carefully cutting out scandalous portions. The crowd ate it up, hundreds of Venetian faces laughing along with him.

After talking came dancing. Kevin was handed dance cards and time after time was pulled onto the floor to dance. Man and woman alike came up to him, emboldened by their drinks, and asked for spin. Each dance ended with a bow, a respectful kiss to the hand and a practiced blush. Few times, he got some whispered statement in his ear and a lingering touch that he could interpret as he wished.

Kevin, ever the gentleman, looked over their shoulders at their partners and escorts. He turned them down, respect of their virtues and reputations if not his own. They shuffled away with no mention of the slight, some angry and some resigned. Though Kevin did not live to the exact rules of chivalry, but he figured it wasn’t the best time for him to go sniffing around for trouble. His reputation would look better for it, but it hurt to watch all those fine ladies (and lords) walk away.

Kevin took a break from the crowd and stood outside of the dance floor. Another round of dancing had begun, the music faster and jovial. He clapped along, smiling and almost ignorant to the gentle touch a hand at his elbow. Kevin turned slightly, mouth opened to turn the person down. He stopped short and his eyes lit up with recognition. 

“Miss Teresa!” Kevin wasted no time in bowing and kissing the back of the woman’s fine hand. “You look amazing.”

“Flattery will win you nothin’,” said Teresa. “Are you enjoyin’ the party?”

“I am. It’s amazin’. I forgot how beautiful court life was. I’ m feelin’ poor next to you though.”

Teresa sucked her teeth but she blushed. Kevin knew he was right. His costume was modest compared to her pastel and cream-colored gown that slipped off her body like water. She wore a crown of flowers and carried a bouquet of water lilies. She told Kevin she was supposed to be Persephone, queen of the underworld. Understanding the intricacies of her costume, Kevin chuckled.

Her dark eyes flashed good-naturedly. “I’m glad you think it’s funny. Some have _ideas_ about my morals and sense of humor.”

“Dumbasses,” Kevin said. “You look stupendous. I’m sure your dance card is filled.”

Teresa took her card and waved it. “Would you like a spot before you don’t have a chance?”

“No, thank you. I think I’d like to stand still for a while, get used to all this noise.”

For a second, Teresa looked concerned, worry obvious in her eyes. “Don’t forget that you’ve earned this Kevin. The past is the past. Someone felt you had a spot here. For tonight, at least, everything is behind us.” Teresa pressed her hand to his cheek. “This is a party. Smile, baby!”

Abashed, Kevin managed one for her, tight but soon becoming bright and genuine. She touched his arm and laughed. “There it is! Now, keep that on. Masquerade balls are prone to hostin’ familiar faces. I’d keep my eyes peeled if I were you.”

A prophesy of a warning, Kevin couldn’t tell. He watched as Teresa disappeared into the throng of people. He found a someone serving champagne and drank deeply. Nobility couldn’t and shouldn’t become inebriated but he planned to come close to it as possible. Kevin downed a few more glasses and took a second dizzying lap around the room. He kissed twice the amount of hands, suffered through a few more tempting invitations and fought the urge to accept a few.

Around midnight, the room began to swim and morph. The music was unbearably loud and tinny, happy to a fault. People were losing their inhibitions and forgetting their places. Kevin stood outside the dance floor again, amused as some earl embarrassed himself with a debutante. He nursed his, hopefully, final glass of champagne, bubbles delighting across his tongue and down his throat. He loved the court, loved being around these foolishly rich people. It did not mean anything or matter that the smiles were drawn on. What mattered was that now, here, they were singing and dancing.

After some time of observing, Kevin became aware of a presence behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention, gooseflesh rising on his arms.

A smooth, deep voice spoke to him and said, “Wonderful party, ain’t it?”

Kevin switched to face the figure. They wore a pure white _bauta_ mask decorated with faint lines of pale gold. The jutting chin and slanting eyes matched the voice’s curious anonymity. The figure’s costume was beautiful and detailed. He wore a white and gold custom cutaway jacket with a pearlescent cloak affixed to the shoulders. A deep blue sash was worn across the costume and was filled with pins and medals alluding to the figure’s high station. The hands of the stranger were not covered by gloves. Kevin knew gloves of any kind might distract from the many rings he wore, diamond and gold and a single opal. 

Confusing was settling in, but Kevin said, “Yes. It’s been a while since I’ve been in society. I forget how big these parties get.”

“And how long they drag on.”

“Don’t you enjoy it?” Kevin asked.

The figure sighed, shifting their weight from one foot to the other. “No, no, it’s all fun, but not my idea of an evenin’ well spent.”

“Oh?” Kevin’s neck prickled with sweat. “What’s an evenin’ well spent for you?”

“Me and a good friend, good music and food —”

Kevin took in a sharp breath. “Milord, I must interrupt you. Forgive me, but I can’t. I’m honor bound.”

“Even for me?”

The figure lifted a dark, ringed hand to removed the pearl and gold mask. The face, familiar and yet unfamiliar all at once, took the breath of the Kevin’s lungs.

“ _Chiron_.”

“Kevin.”

The ballroom was filled with song and people, clicking footsteps and clinking glasses. Jewelry twinkled and shone, people screamed with laughter, but Kevin saw and heard none of it. His whole world, his entire being, had became this short, small space between he and Chiron. Their eyes took in each other’s forms, cataloging the changes in each other’s faces. They locked eyes. Kevin suddenly felt drunk enough to stumble, to collapse to the floor.

“You’re so…”

“You look…”

“Beautiful.”

Chiron, regal and splendorous in his costume, kept perfect eye contact with Kevin. It was a gift, a pleasure Kevin knew no one else had the delight of knowing. Kevin stepped in closer, edging Chiron to the walls of the ballroom. Chiron reached to touch his face but stopped himself. He looked breathless. Kevin felt breathless.

“Where’ve you been? Where’d you go?”

“Away. Miami.”

“Miami? We’ve been so…” 

“ _Close_. I know. I heard you were in Atlanta.” Kevin, head pounding, said, “Teresa told me, but I couldn’t believe it. It’s been years.”

“Feels like centuries, does isn’t it?”

“Millenia. Chiron, your face, your face. I hardly recognized you.”

“I could say the same for you, but I’d know you blindfolded.”

“Am I that familiar?” Kevin asked. 

Chiron said nothing and it was enough to send pangs to Kevin’s heart. Chiron asked, “What have you been doing?”

He wondered if he should tell Chiron the truth. About prison, about being lonely for five years. He couldn’t. It wasn’t the time or place.

“You know how it is. Workin’, livin’. Tryin’ to make a name for myself. Knighthood pays pennies.”

“ _You’re a knight_? Since when?” Chiron’s brows raised a fraction of an inch, less surprised and more amused. “Who knighted you? A jester? A fool?”

“A stand in for the king,” Kevin said, chuckling. “Don’t laugh. These medals are as real as anythin’.”

“Is that so?” Chiron teased.

“It is.” Kevin pushed his chest forward, showing off the medals and pins attached to his suit. Chiron’s fingers hovered over the gold and silver pieces, just barely touching the precious metal. Did it hurt more that Chiron’s uncovered fingers did not touch his chest? Kevin’s mouth went dry. He placed the tips of his fingers on Chiron’s wrist.

Chiron’s eyes snapped to meet his.They were close, extremely close. Kevin could feel the well-made fabric of Chiron’s clothes and his body heat. His cologne, the smell of cinnamon and wine on his parted lips was headier than any drink. Chiron flicked out his tongue to wet his lips. Kevin’s eyes darted down to catch the movement.

“Chiron.”

“ _Kevin_.”

It was Chiron who stepped away first.

The evening soldiered on, Kevin and Chiron side by side though anxious, fretful energy passed between them. Voices and song rose and fell around them. Sooner than later, the ball would come to an end. Kevin could not worry about their dwindling time or what would come after. All he had was the here and now, time spent between Chiron and the elaborate, wood-paneled walls. He reveled in the way Chiron held himself, how he spoke, how his eyes flashed and shone at everything Kevin said. Chiron’s laughter was rare but brilliant. He would toss back his head and clap his hands, a bright thunder song suited for the heavens.

Kevin watched the line of his throat, the way his ring hands gesticulated and peppered stories with movement. He was, in a word, enchanting.

A servant came around with a final call for drinks. They held out a plate of sweet wines. Kevin took two, nodding to the servant and then offering a glass to Chiron. The man waved a hand.

“I don’t drink.”

Kevin tutted and said, “Really? Well, you gonna drink tonight. It’s a celebration.”

“Yeah?” Chiron took a tentative sniff at the dark wine. “What are we toastin’?”

“Old friends.”

“Missed connections?”

Kevin tipped his head and said, “Found threads.”

Their glasses clink together, sharp ringing noise. Kevin drank and watched as Chiron drank. Hypnotizing, swallowing throat, the eyes fluttering clothes — Kevin’s breath caught. Chiron grimaced and handed the glass off to another passing servant. The look of disgust smoothed over and became that placid lake that Kevin knew so well.

“Other than make a livin’, what have you been doin’?”

“Absolutely nothin’. I’ve been bored senseless.”

“Really? Well, the start of the season must feel like a gift. Tons of trouble to get into, parties and galas almost every week.” Chiron hummed, “It’s fun, right? All these new styles, all these new people comin’ in. Nothin’ like when _we_ were comin’ up.”

“You remember that?” Kevin smiled. They must have shared the memory of him coming down the palace steps and posing awkwardly in photographs with the Queen. Kevin shook his head and said, “You see all these white kids pretendin’ to be Black? This year’s bound to be a _treat_.”

The two of them laugh and then Kevin said, “So, you’re _just_ here for the social season?”

“Um, I think so. I have to be back in Atlanta. Duty calls and everythin’. Lands to rule, money to collect, peasants to boss around.”

“A busy man. What a shame.” Kevin waited a beat and battled between what was proper and what was foolish, wishful thinking. “Where you stayin’?”

“On my own. I have a place here far upstate.” Chiron opened and closed his mouth, looking unsure of his next words. He settled on, “You should come up some time. It’s a beautiful home.”

“You’re very kind, but …,” Kevin trailed off. “I don’t think I’m in the right position to take up that offer.”

“What do you mean?” Chiron glanced at him, smiling, and observed his grim face. “Kevin, it can’t be that serious.” His eyes flashed for a moment, but he looked at Kevin and saw no joy or amusement. “Kevin?”

“Chiron, there’s somethin’ I betta tell you.”

“What is this?”

He opened his mouth to speak and confess his truth, but just as he thought of the words to say Teresa came up to them with her bag and cloak.

“Ah! You’ve found each other.”

“We did,” Chiron said. He canted his head and continued, “Was I the only one not to know Kevin was a knight?”

“Probably. Funny how things work out, hm?”

“Hilarious,” said Kevin. “Chiron, I think you’re bein’ pulled away.”

“You are,” said Teresa. She gave and apologetic look and squeezed Chiron’s arm. “You’re my ride home and there’s not much more trouble I can get into.”

“Let me walk you two to your car,” Kevin offered. He extended his right arm for Teresa to take while Chiron walked close to the left. They cut through the dwindling crowd, out into the hall and then the steep steps. Their car, the smooth black beast that escorted him home, waited out front with Travis at the wheel.

Kevin pulled the car door open and Chiron helped Teresa into the backseat. Before he got into the car, Chiron stuck out his hand. The two of them shook, electric waves zapping through Kevin. He swore he could feel his hair standing on end.

“Well, old friend, I’ll be seein’ you around. It was a pleasure to see you again,” Chiron said. He peered at Kevin through the rolled down window. “You’ll have to tell me your terrible scandal some other time.”

“Next time we meet,” Kevin promised. “Though I have no idea when that’ll be.”

“Soon. You know the season. Non-stop partying, dinners galore.”

“Why not this Friday?” Teresa interjected. She leaned forward in her car seat and looked between the two men. She said, “I’m hostin’ a luncheon for a friend. Nothin’ incredibly fancy. The dress is semi-formal. You can come to that, can’t you, Kevin?”

“I can, yes.” Kevin glanced at Chiron. 

Nodding, she said, “Then it’s settled. We’ll see you this Friday, Sir Kevin. We’ll watch for you.” Tapping the glass separating them from their chauffeur, Teresa gave him instructions to drive home.

And like that Chiron was gone, disappeared into the night. What a funny apparition, what a wicked ghost to lay his spell and leave. Only when the car was out of sight did Kevin feel himself breathing.

Kevin stood at the street corner, hand raised for a car. As he rode home that evening, Kevin put a hand to chest. His heart, bewitched, thumped wildly.


	2. With No Lessons, Lords or Lunches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tea, a walk and a luncheon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you hate me if I kept using songs from Barbie + Disney movies for the titles of the chapters? This week ... Samantha and even _more_ tension between Chiron and Kevin. Hope your excited! Comments and kudos are always loved and encouraged.

In the days following the grand masquerade ball, Kevin received a flurry of social calls and cards. Like snakes, they slithered through his mail slot and hissed across the parquet floors. Parents pushed their children out to be inspected. They insisted he come for lunch, for teas and dinners. He accepted few of these others, blithely writing cheerful little acceptance notes back to a bevy of gentry.

On a cold November’s morning, three letters slipped through the mail slot. Kevin took all three to the library and read them through. The first was ominous, plain granite pencil against lined paper sent from Florida. He threw it away after reading and washed his hands to rid himself of the crawling sensation he felt. The second came from a dame curious to know if he’d like to meet with her daughter. He wasn’t interested at all, but he planned to say yes anyway thinking it was the least he could do for such a low standing family.

The last and final letter came in a pink envelope stamped and sealed with a red wax rose. The name on the envelope sent excited thrills up his spine. A smile crossed his face as he opened the letter and read it. The handwriting as small and looping, the handwriting of a young woman sure of herself but not exactly sure of what to say. Many of the words were crossed out and replaced, meaning changed by the slashes and covered letters. Attached to the few papers was a photograph of a brown-skinned woman and a young smiling toothily at the camera.

_Samantha,_ his ex-girlfriend and mother of his son, was up north for the social season. Sheinvited him for a day or so at her country home in Oak Bluffs. A casual event, she promised, with just one or two other guests. In the letter, she praised Kevin for his return and suggested that she might gave good news to be shared once he came down.

You have to come this Wednesday, Samantha wrote. It’s been ages and in your absence, I’ve become a new woman.

With no hesitation, Kevin accepted the invitation. He wrote a letter in return, hopefully matching Samantha’s positive, bubbly energy. Afterwards, he checked his calendar, feeling a little overwhelmed by the events he dedicated himself to. If he was smart, Kevin would look into finding a manservant, but when was there time for that?

Tuesday, he’d meet with the dame and her daughter. Wednesday, he’d see his son and his ex. Friday, he’d go to Chiron’s luncheon.

* * *

 

The meeting with the dame was not going well. First of all, Kevin had been nearly two hours late after a mix-up with the address. He ended up nearer Albany than the woman’s Rhode Island manor. Kevin came in with mouth full of apologies. The tea and petit fours had long gone cold. Kevin had to assure the woman (Dame Diane? Deann? He really didn’t know) that he didn’t intend to miss the tea she had so graciously set out.

In retrospect, missing the tea would’ve been better than the mess he got him trapped in. Kevin put the metaphorical foot in his mouth on a number of occasions. He realized midway through the tea that he was working off old information and that the world had moved in his absence. The dame’s husband passed years ago, she no longer had the property out in California and, _no_ , he was not here to see about Georgiana (the prettier one, in his opinion) but homely, frustratingly boring Madeline.

Madeline, a fleshy, pink strip of woman, sat cross-legged in the grand parlor. She sat with her chest pushed out, stale blue eyes staring expectantly. Madeline tried touching Kevin often, lifeless pale hand resting on his knee or elbow. Though aware that Kevin wasn’t interested in her, she pressed on, testing her luck until her mother said something.

“Madeline …”

“Mother?” Her eyes flit to the dame’s, Cheshire-cat grin stretched across her face. The joy did not reach her eyes and she reached, not-so-discreetly, for Kevin’s hand. He took it away, placed it in his lap.

Madeline turned back to Kevin, hurt crossing her eyes. Kevin gave her a tight, sorry smile. He didn’t want her, but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings either. Kevin wondered if he could get out of this without hurting her feelings or insulting her mother.

“Sir Kevin, would you like to go for a stroll in the gardens?”

“Maddie.”

Madeline ignored her mother. To Kevin, she said, “I won’t keep you long, but our tulips are lovely. We’ve won awards for our tulips.”

Kevin sensed the woman was becoming more and more uncomfortable. He wore a nervous smile as he stood and escorted Madeline out the back door.

Madeline brought him out to the gardens to see the “award-winning tulips”. Kevin could admit at least that they were very pretty. The gardens were in actuality a barely tamed field bursting with bulb flowers. Row after row of tulips, crocus and buttercup spilled out onto their few acres of land. Scrawny white birches and beeches stood guard around the sweet-smelling flowers. Here and there were benches to sit upon, climbing ivy and weeds twirling around their stone lion feet. At the center of the garden was an old English oak that casted shade and would throw down its acorns come late summer.

“You have a _lot_ of tulips.”

“My family’s from Holland,” Madeline started. “We came to America and changed the Vos to Fox. My great-great-grandmother missed home so much that she convinced my great-great-grandfather to bring her a piece of holland. She thought he’d come back with a few flowers or a tree — he returned with a garden.”

“That sounds …”

“Romantic. I’ve always wanted for someone to love me enough to bring me a garden.” 

Taking a deep, uncertain breath, Kevin said, “Ma’am.”

“Sir?”

“Can I be completely honest with you?”

As if expecting what Kevin might say, Madeline took a seat a lion-footed bench and clasped her hands in her lap. The expression on her face was dejected, hurt. “If you must.”

“I’m not interesting in a courtship,” Kevin admitted. “And I don’t feel comfortable leading you on. I fear I’m too kind to do somethin’ so cruel.”

“Gentleman?” She had dropped the affected, high accent she had used for the day. “Why’d you accept in the first place?” 

“I thought … I thought you were your sister.”

Madeline snorted. “Of course. Valencia or Georgiana?” 

“Georgiana,” Kevin said, sitting beside her. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. Your honesty is appreciated. The others just stood me up or lied to my face. Or ‘courted me’ and married my sisters.” She raised her shoulders and let out on long, tired breath.

“I didn’t know. About your sisters, I mean.”

“Really? It’s all everyone talked about. ‘Duke William of California leaves young dame for attractive sister’. Madeline Fox left at the alter; beau marries sister’.” Madeline wore a cold, rueful smile. “But I suppose you wouldn’t know. You were gone then, weren’t you? Prison.”

“Yes.” 

“What does that say for us, Sir Kevin? Am I only good enough to marry a felon? Or is a felon low enough to marry the Fox spinster?”

Kevin shrugged. “You’re not a spinster.”

“But I am ugly and the last to be wed. Who knows? Maybe I’ll take your route. Wasn’t there something, once, about you being gay?”

“Bisexual, but yes.”

“So the rumors were true. About you and —”

“They were,” Kevin said, cutting her out before she could speak his name. “We had a thing in high school, but I broke his heart. It’s in the past now. Bygones.”

“How tragic,” Madeline said, only a little facetious. “I heard you attended his masquerade ball. Did you get a chance to see him?”

Kevin paused. “ _His_ masquerade ball? What do you mean?”

A serious of expressions crossed Madeline’s face — bemused, incredulous and then coy. “Oh my. You don’t know. My, isn’t this interesting. Sir Kevin, Chiron is no longer on _your_ level or rank. Of course, it’s his ball. Chiron’s royal peerage now — a Duke.”

* * *

The next day, Kevin was on the mid-morning ferry ride from New York to Martha’s vineyard. The sun was a platinum blonde, splaying its rays across the rolling water like strands of hair. Though the sun shone, it was chilly out. Kevin’s jacket swayed in the wind.

The ferry ride was close to five hours long. The minutes and second stretched on, giving him plenty of time to work himself into a nervous sweat. He worried about seeing Samantha again, about seeing his boy in what felt like ages. 

Both he and Samantha were young when they had KJ. Those months before the birth of his son was hazy. Samantha filled in the gaps for him, how her family hid her out in a claustrophobic country house. They sent a midwife near the end. She was paid to be quiet and to keep Samantha sane as the teenage girl waited for the baby. When the time came, it was just the two of them in the house, Samantha shouting and an old nurse holding her hand.

Kevin sighed. KJ must’ve been six now. Kevin had been in and out of the boy’s life like a glitch. They knew each other through letters and pictures only. He explained the situation the best he could and hoped the boy understood that Kevin loved him. He prayed his meaning got through the pages and that when he saw his boy face to face, his son would love him or, at least, like him.

When the ferry pulled into the dock, Kevin got off soon as possible, sure he was going to be sick. This might have been a mistake. If he was smart, he would turn back. Maybe, a reunion wasn’t the best course of action. There was time to buy a ticket back and write an apology letter, tell Samantha that he couldn’t bear to be a disappointment.

“Kevin?”

A voice from the dock cut through his self-pity and shocked him back into reality. He could see her, Samantha, standing on her tip toes and waving to him. Even from a distance, Kevin saw that she was beautiful as the day they met. Bronze, sun-kissed skin, eyes the color of dark honey, Samantha came to him with a cheery smile and open arms. He met her halfway, taking her into his arms and pressed a polite, but affectionate kiss to her cheek.

She laughed, exclaimed, “Hey! You’re here!”

“I’m here!” Kevin repeated, looked her up and down “Still tiny as anythin’. Step back, gimme a spin!”

Samantha rolled her eyes, but stepped back. Time had been kind to her. Days by the seaside had given her skin and hair a healthy glow. Her dark curls were sun-bleached and freckles spotted her broad nose. The eating must’ve been good because Samantha was full figured and fine, arms and legs jiggling as she spun in her chick’s yellow dress.

“Look at you in that dress! Got the sunshine jealous, lookin’ like Miami.”

“Boy, stop. Let’s get goin’,I got a car waitin’ for us, and I don’t wanna keep her waitin’.”

“ _Her?_ ” 

Samantha stopped short, gave him a look and then kept walking. “You’ll see when we get there. ”

A white car waited for them, another chauffeur shepherding them into the car. Once in the back seat, Samantha put a hand on Kevin’s knee. She said, “I’m glad you’re back. You’re all KJ’s been talkin’ about for the last few days.”

“He knows I’m comin’?”

“I wouldn’t have let you come if he didn’t. He’s excited. I’m excited, too.” She squeezed his knee and continued with, “How have you been, Kevin? Settlin’ in alright?”

“Just settlin’. Feel like I've missed everythin’ important. I’m just tryin’ to play catch up.”

“Hard game to play. You missed half a decade.”

The car rolled on for a while longer, windows open to let in the cool air. Kevin stared out to the sights around them. Samantha pointed out highlights for him, pointed out the homes of friends and other nobles. Finally, they came to a slim, side street. It was quieter than the main street. There weren’t many houses there, but the few Kevin saw were massive. Black folks milled around outside and tended to their gardens, spoke to their friends.

The car rolled up the driveway of one of the largest homes, a twisting gravel path that shook the car. “Welcome to Juniper Hall.”

Kevin had been to Juniper Hall just once as a teenager. He was too caught up in himself, in Samantha to appreciate the beauty of the historic home. Now, he got out of the car, mouth open wide, dazzled by the grand hall.

Juniper Hall was all wood, a Victorian manor painted in winey purples, reds and accented by a charming periwinkle blue. The house was decorated with turrets and towers. Rose bushes and a stone path led up to the cherry-red door.

An older Black man came down the steps, flanked by two younger men. All three were dressed in livery and wore pristine, white gloves. The young men opened the doors and helped Samantha and Kevin out. The older man stood back, waited for Samantha to approached him before speaking.

“Milday. Milord,” he said, bowing deep. “The viscountess and the young sir are already in the orchard, milady.”

“Thank you, Kingston.”

“Will Sir Kevin need a valet, milady?”

“He won’t. He’s got to be back in New York tomorrow afternoon. Big fancy luncheon to attend day after.” She started towards the house, walking up the steps and waiting for the older man to open the door for her. She nodded to Kingston and stepped inside. Warm air waited for them, a gift after the chill.

“How’d you know about that?” Kevin asked, grinning and following close behind her.

“I have my ways,” Samantha replied. “Let’s go out to the orchard. There’s someone you have to meet.”

The change from the dimly lit house to the brilliant sunshine of the Juniper Hall gardens was startling. Kevin stepped out of the house and onto the porch. He raised his hand to shield his eyes, moving it away only to admire the beauty. He was struck dumb by the greenery, mouth falling open for the second time that day.

The Juniper Hall gardens were split into two sections. On one side was a landscaped masterpiece, mowed grass and sweet-smelling flowers and statuesque trees. The other side housed the famous Juniper Orchards, orange and grapefruit trees sprawled out over an acre or so. From this side came the smell of sea salt and citrus, waves of honeysuckle and magnolia on their final parade before winter’s ice.

Samantha brought Kevin to the landscaped half of the garden where a small canopy was set up over a single table. Waiting there were plates of finger sandwiches and cakes. A pot of tea and several decorated cups sat on doilies. A maid and a footman tended to two sitting figures. 

One of the sitting figures peeked from behind the footman, revealing his brown face. He saw his mother first and then Kevin. His dark eyes widened and then a toothy smile spread across his face. “Daddy?”

Kevin’s stomach flipped. Not even thinking, he got down on his knee and threw out his arms. The boy rose from his chair and rushed in, happy squealing as his father picked him up and gave him a good spin. He poured all of his love on KJ, squeezing him tight and peppering his face with kisses. When he put KJ down, he held his face in his hands.

“You’re _so_ big! Last time I saw you I could hold you in my hand.” Kevin ruffled KJ’s hair and said, “How old are you now? Twenty? Fifty-five?”

“Da- _aa_ -ad!” KJ laughed, perfect sound that had Kevin feeling like he was walking on water. “I’m _six_!”

“Six? Nah, that can’t be right.”

“Dad, daddy! Come meet Mommy’s new friend!”

“Mommy’s new friend?” Kevin looked back to Samantha, curious expression on his face. He let KJ take his hand and lead him over to the table where a tall, dark-skinned woman sat. She was in conversation with the maid, trying to get some information about the ferries. As Kevin and KJ got closer, her attention turned to them. 

Kevin was breathless. The woman had short cropped hair, tightly wound and coiled; it rested around her head like an aureola, illuminated by sunlight. Her cool brown eyes were deep-set and wide. She crossed and uncrossed her long legs, graceful and lithe as a cat. The woman looked to Kevin and then to KJ. She smiled, gleaming white teeth revealed.

_Oh_ , Kevin thought.

Samantha came behind them and said, “Kevin, I’d like for you to meet her ladyship, Nadia Touissant. Nadia, this is Kevin. Kevin, Nadia.”

Nadia extended a brown hand, bracelet jangling on her wrist. “It’s nice to meet you, sir. I’ve heard an awful lot about you.” Her accent was thick and Haitian, voice deep and sugary as she spoke to him, through him.

“All good things, I hope.”

“The best.” Nadia tipped her head and said, “Samantha thinks _very_ highly of you.”

“Well, he’s a good man. One of the best.” Samantha glanced at Kevin. She lowered her eyes for a moment, strange mood passing over her. She cheered up soon after, dipped down and said to KJ, “How about you go get Kingston and we’ll start our walk as _soon_ as you get back?”

KJ hopped — literally, hopped! Where does the boy find the energy? — off and ran back into the house. Samantha began to tell him to stop running, but thought better of it.

“Tellin’ him to slow down is like tellin’ the sun not to rise,” Samantha chuckled. “Take a seat, baby. He’s gonna be a while.”

Kevin obeyed, taking a seat between the two women. The maid offered him tea, but he turned it down, preferring instead to nibble at one of the sandwiches. Nadia watched him carefully, waiting until he was finished to speak.

“Samantha tells me you’re a knight. Is that a rewarding career?”

“Not as many dragons to slay and not nearly enough damsels to save, but it’s fine. It’s more like a title, an honorary thing.” He cleared his throat and said, “I’m actually in need of a job.”

“Have you considered land ownership? I have some properties.”

“Not enough money.” 

“Then charity. I run a series of non-profits out in Harlem. Art classes and the like.” Nadia leaned forward, smiled and said, “I see how happy you are around your son. You may like working with children.”

“He should go with you to one of the dance classes sometime.” Samantha looked to Kevin and added, “The kids — you’d be amazed what kids can do with some music and open space.”

The idea of it charmed Kevin and he promised he’d try to make one someday. Just as their conversation ended, KJ came running down the steps followed by Kingston. The man looked flushed, like he had been chasing KJ around. 

Somewhat out of breath, Kingston said, “Milady?”

Turning to her two guests with her brow raised, Samantha said, “Shall we walk?”

It was cold out, but the orchards held the feeling of summer. Orange-scented air blowing back on the four (five) of them, KJ running and shouting through the trees. KJ offered to show Kevin how far he could climb up, but before he could take his first step, his mother suggested they leave that for another time. He was disappointed for a moment, but he found other things to show off to Kevin. It was, much to Kevin’s dismay, mostly bugs.

“Wow, lil’ man!” Kevin scratched the back of his head. He had seen an astonishing amount of stick bugs and caterpillars. "You like bugs?”

“I like science. I want be a entomologist.” 

“Really?” Kevin watched as KJ took the bug from his hand. He cringed at the sensation of legs skittering against his palm. “And what do entomologists do?” 

“They study bugs! I like beetles.” The boy set the bug down on a leaf, careful of its legs and wings. The gentleness tugged at Kevin’s heart. “Mom says if my grades stay good I can have one. I want a Japanese Rhinoceros beetle, _allomyrina dichotoma.”_

“Sounds cool, lil’ man. I guess I’ll have to come back and see it, huh?”

“Yeah!” And then KJ ran off to find yet another spider to place into Kevin’s hand. 

The knight found some time alone with Samantha, a few minutes in which bugs and small animals were being pushed onto Nadia instead. Mother and father walked side by side, amused by the chattering boy and the kind if not creeped-out woman. Samantha surprised him by entwining her fingers with his and swinging their hands. It was improper, terrible thing to do but he pulled her close.

“So, Nadia, huh?”

“She’s amazin’, isn’t she? I wanted you to meet her before we came out in society. Only the four of us know. Not even my parents know.”

“Mom’s not gonna be happy being one of the last to know.”

“She’s going to tear me to shreds,” Samantha said, shaking her head. “But then she’ll hear that Nadia’s a viscountess and all that anger will go out the window.”

He went silent for a minute or two. He was beginning to feel unsure of himself, like he didn’t belong in this beautiful garden with a family that was rebuilding itself. Samantha must’ve sensed this because she stopped the two of them. Under the shade of an orange tree, she held his hands and looked intently into his eyes. He tried to tear himself away but she pinned him, searched through him. Finding what she wanted, Samantha scoffed. 

“Don’t be an idiot.”

“I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Don’t be a dumbass, Kevin. If I invited you here, I want you here.”

“You got that from my eyes?” Kevin asked.

“I can read you like a book. Even when I first met you, young and stupid, I could see all of you. Your dreams, your insecurities.” Samantha took her hands away from him. “You’re like every other man, I should say, but … you’ve got a place with me. Come on.” She nudged him with her shoulder. “Let’s go save Nadia.”

* * *

The next morning, Kevin woke to an unfamiliar room. He realized after a second’s panic that he was still at Samantha’s place and immediately relaxed. The room was comfortable and large. A blue robe waited for him on the back of the door. He rose from the bed, rubbing at his face as he crossed the room and slipped on the robe.

Out the door and down the hall, Kevin could hear voices. Laughing, joking, Kevin assumed the three were preparing breakfast. As he came down the steps, the voices rose. He heard KJ and Samantha and Nadia’s softer voice interjecting. A sad smile touched his face as he found the three of them in the kitchen.

Nadia, dressed in a pink nightgown and robe, stood over Nadia’s island counter stove and flipped pancakes. KJ and Samantha sat at the counter on barstools and watched with rapt attention. They were in the middle of a very passionate conversation about spiders in the house, but it was put on hold the moment Nadia noticed him.

“Good morning, Kevin.”

He raised a hand. “Mornin’.”

KJ hopped down from his seat and said, “Daddy! Nadia’s making blueberry pancakes.”

“Yeah? Did you eat ‘em all?” 

“No,” he said sheepishly. “Mommy won’t let me.”

Kevin laughed at that. He picked the boy up though he knew he was too old for it and held him close. KJ allowed the hug until hunger overruled affection. He wriggled away and jumped down and bounced — literally bounced — back to his seat. Kevin wondered where he found all the energy this early in the morning.

“Good morning, Kevin,” Nadia said. She had her spatula lifted high when she asked, “Pancakes?”

“Yeah, that’ll be nice. Thanks.” Kevin took a seat at the dining table. “Everything smells great.”

“She’s the perfect chef,” Samantha said, chin in her hands.

“Not perfect…”

“Well, perfect compared to me. I’d find a way to burn water. Pancakes and bacon without razing the house? That’s a miracle by my standards.”

Nadia rolled her eyes before saying, “Food’s almost done. “ Looking to Kevin, she said, “Do you mind setting the table?”

Samantha’s dining room was connected to the kitchen so there wasn’t that far to go. With KJ’s help, Kevin set the table with fine dishes and glasses. His son showed him where the cutlery was stored and even offered to pour the juice himself. Kevin watched as KJ carefully poured orange juice for three of them (Nadia opted for tea) and folded the napkins into triangles.

“You gotta sit next to me!” KJ insisted. He patted the seat next to him and Kevin obliged. 

Soon, Nadia and Samantha came over holding plates of food. With breakfast served, the four of them dug into the meals with gusto. From the corner of his eye and with half an ear, Kevin observed Nadia and Samantha’s interactions. How Samantha would grab Nadia’s hand and rub her knuckles. How Nadia would lean over to whisper and how Samantha laughed every time.

He wasn’t jealous. What they had was years ago and nothing more than puppy love. Kevin was _happy_ , unbelievably happy. Nadia listened to all of KJ’s questions and answered best she could. Nadia was making Samantha smile. She was doing what he couldn’t and, really, that’s the best Kevin could’ve hoped for.

In between the clinks of the glasses and the scrape of cutlery, Kevin found his family.

* * *

Late that same afternoon, Kevin was back on the ferry to New York. Yesterday, he wished to disappear and escape. Now, he mulled over the promises he made and intended to keep. He told KJ he’d be back to see his bug collection, that since he’d be in New York for a while, he wanted KJ to spend a few nights with him.

What a fool he’d been thinking KJ wouldn’t like him! The boy was the spitting image of him, brown skin and a head full of hair. His toothy smile, the way he barreled headfirst into adventure. Not to mention how he glowed, eyes wide in amazement when Kevin told him that he was a knight. He didn’t have the heart to tell the boy that knights didn’t ride into battle any more. KJ, sweet as he was, believed his father was from the age of dragons and princesses, towers and favors from maidens. 

And Nadia! Oh! He wondered where Samantha _found_ such a woman, such a looker. She wasn’t kidding when she told Kevin she was a new woman. He wondered if this meant she was also bisexual or a lesbian or pan or poly. Either way, he was proud. Samantha was happily living her truth. There couldn’t have been a better outcome.

Kevin returned to New York with a spring in his step. He walked through the streets with a smile on his face, music playing in his head. He had planned to write a thank you letter when he returned home, something overflowing with appreciation. His mood threatened to go sour after seeing another plain white envelope from Florida. The name alone turned his stomach. Not wanting to ruin the high he was on, Kevin ripped up the letter and threw it away. He pushed it to the back of his mind, thinking only of insects and his small boy who loved them.

* * *

There were, in Kevin’s humble opinion, too damn many white people at this luncheon. When Teresa invited him, she forgot to mention she was hosting this party as a favor to one of her, _ahem_ , paler friends. It was a diverse crowd, sure, with plenty of black and brown faces smiling through the mass of white, but _still_. Kevin saw enough awkward shifting and purse clutching, he would’ve forgot the people of color were just as rich if not richer than the white people.

They were in social hour. Glasses clinking and casual dress swishing around the ankles. Kevin had kept to himself mostly, kind enough to speak to the few faces he recognized. He was alone through most of it. He felt confused and out of the loop until Teresa stepped into the room.

She looked great with her hair pinned up in a messy chignon, dressed in a grey suit with a dove-white shirt beneath it. Teresa wore pearls and light makeup. Teresa came into the parlor and smile, sunshine pouring in the moment her teeth were bared. She was the perfect hostess, bouncing from group to group, giving her attention to any and all that wanted it.

Kevin waved to her and she waved back. She nodded to him as if promising she’d get around to him. Kevin stepped back and let Teresa do her think, sinking into the wallpaper. He would’ve stayed there for the rest of the social hour, but then Kevin saw _him_.

He only knew it was Chiron from the commotion he was causing. The duke was dressed well — a formal suit with a floral pattern and a silky but scarf. Kevin saw the stark difference between the shy boy from his youth and the man Chiron was now. He witnessed as Chiron spoke, bravado and confidence coming off of him in waves. His smile, decorated with a gold and diamond grill, threw out a net and captured a small crowd of people.People were drawn to him like flies to honey, like lightning bugs to buzzing porch lights.

Kevin just wanted to speak to him. He didn’t forget the promise he made to Chiron the night of the masquerade ball. He wanted to be honest, but he needed the quiet space and one-on-one time first.

In his eagerness to reach Chiron, Kevin had built up his own huddle around him. Kevin did not recognize many of the people, but many of the people knew him. Curious and malicious faces pressed in close, wondering where he had been and what he had done. He answered all that he could and tried to get away quick as possible but to no avail. Kevin was trapped, pinned beneath a torrent of questions and accusations.

On the night of the masquerade, Kevin had fooled himself into believing the nobility could be forgiving. They had sang and danced together, past blinded by the glittering jewels. Now the masks were gone and their mouths are full of sneers. Nothing was good-natured, nothing was well-intentioned. A “gentlemen” with eyes a piercing shade of blue told him, honestly, that he should’ve stayed gone, that the gentry had no use for thugs posing as knights.

“We have a reputation to uphold, you see. I’m not sure if you return will shine well on you.”

The “helpful” comments and suggestions along with the outright mean and condescending allusions to his nature left Kevin seeing red. He left the parlor breathless, angry. Kevin found a quiet alcove to calm himself, breathing deeply as he loosened his tie. He thought he was alone, but footsteps said differently.

He looked up. Chiron.

His light shone ten-fold in the small space. He stood some feet away from Kevin, but his musk, his aura radiated off of him, striking Kevin in the heart. Chiron regarded him carefully, quietly. 

“Are you alright?”

Kevin began to nod, stopped and then shook his head. “Those people are …”

“Assholes?”

Kevin smirked. “Assumptive.” He leaned against the wall, head pressed back against the white wainscoting. “What are you doin’ here, Chiron?”

Chiron ignored the question and asked his own. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” There was an accusation in his voice and a smudge of hurt.

Kevin thought to ask him what he meant, but realized and had to bow his head in shame. “I tried. At the masquerade ball, I tried.”

“I meant back then. I could’ve done somethin’.”

Kevin shook his head, frowned. “I needed it. Wouldn’t be half as honest or together if I hadn’t.” He didn’t dare try to discern the expression Chiron wore. “Look, Chiron,” Kevin said, slowly. “You don’t have to be in here with me. You’re …” _Better than me? Too good to be with me?_ “You should be out there.”

“Teresa’s out there. The luncheon’ll be just fine.” Chiron came in close, a concerned look on his face. “I’m sorry for how people are treatin’ you. Must ruin the party.”

“Current company is nice.”

Chiron could’ve been a tomato from how he blushed, how he bashfully dipped his head. “If you want, you can come back in with me. People don’t fuck with dukes.”

The statement shattered the cool mood like ice. Kevin smiled, said, “Someone told me you were a duke. What drunk sonuvabitch put you in charge?”

“Same one that made you a knight, nigga.”

The two of them laughed, easy and simple and boisterous. Chiron was close enough to let his hand hover over Kevin’s. His body heat, the smell of his cologne making Kevin weak in the knees. Chiron caught himself, looked down at their hands and moved his away. Kevin could feel the ghost of his touch on him. Their eyes met, a heat passing between them. The heavy moment stretched until Chiron blinked and turned away.

“When it’s time to eat, just ignore the seating cards. I want you next to me.”

“Thank you, man, but … you know I can’t do that.”

Chiron took in a deep breath and nodded. It stung some to sit a ways away from Chiron. Kevin’s eyes darted between his plate and the hosts. Those cruel snobs he had encountered earlier were all sitting close to Chiron, caught in their petty conversations and dramas. Kevin tried not to let his station put him down, but the space between he and Chiron was depressing.

The rest of the luncheon passed in relative peace. The food was good and the company improved. Kevin listened as Chiron spoke and commanded a room of people. He was, without a doubt, different. He laughed louder, held himself with such confidence. These people, expect Teresa and Kevin, didn’t really know him. They knew this pretender, this dashing imposter who joked about money and land and fashions.

Mid-afternoon, the luncheon came to an end. People called their cars and began leaving, leaving Kevin one of the last few to go. They gave their kind nods to Teresa and batted their lashes at Chiron, thanking them both for the invitation. Kevin waited his turn and held back until there was hardly anyone else.

Seeing the patiently waiting Kevin, Chiron canted his head and gestured him over. Hands clasped behind his back, he asked, “Do you have anything planed for the week, Sir Kevin?” There were still some people around and Chiron was not free from his role as well-mannered duke.

“No, Duke. Nothin’ save for a meetin’ about a manservant.”

“Is that so?” Chiron hummed and said, “I know of a few good manservants. I’ll put your name out there.” After a beat of silence and of thought, Chiron added. “Perhaps, we can meet later on to interview them. Together.”

“ _Together_.”

“Yes. Will that be a problem?”

Kevin shook his head. “No, not at all.” Kevin opened his mouth to add something else, but a rather rude man pushed past him and began to speak with Chiron. He bit his tongue, holding back what he wanted to say and decided instead to head towards the front door. He raised his hand to wave Chiron goodbye. Chiron waved back then made that universal phone sign. “Call me?”

Out loud and maybe too loud for the foyer, Kevin said, “I will.”


	3. Steady as The Beating Drum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A disappointment, a dance class and a letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a been a while, but here's a short chapter just to keep you interested!

“Are you sure?”

“I’m afraid so. I’m sorry, Kevin.”

Chiron’s voice was apologetic from over the phone. Their plans to interview a handful of manservants was, at the moment, postponed. Chiron had some business to attend to down south and it couldn’t wait. Kevin tried prying for more information, but Chiron gave nothing more than vague, flippant answers. He sounded distracted, as if something important had his attention.

“ Royal discretion, Kevin. A gentlemen never gives all his secrets.” There’s a second of silence, paper shifting in the background. “But I really am sorry. As soon as things are straight again, I’ll give you a call. I want see you again.”

“Me too,” Kevin sighed. “Well, if nothin’ can be done, nothin’ can be done. I understand.”

“Thank you, Kev. I’ll speak to you soon as possible, man. Bye!”

“Bye…”

The line disconnected. Kevin held the phone in hand, Chiron’s voice still ringing in his ears. With that off the table, Kevin’s day was open again. He looked at his calendar and found nothing to keep him occupied. Kevin had almost resigned himself to a day of comfortable boredom when an idea occurred to him. 

He dialed a number, checking a slip of paper to make sure he was getting it right. After a series of dial tones, Kevin said, “Hello? Nadia? It’s Kevin. I think I’d like to take you up on that offer.” 

* * *

 

“Good morning. Hot chocolate?”

It was around eleven in the morning, and Kevin and Nadia stood on a snowy Manhattan street. People rode past on bikes. A group of tourists pointed to a billboard. Kevin took the offered styrofoam cup from Nadia and sipped at it slowly. 

“This is it?” Kevin gestured to the glass and yellow brick building behind them. Through the window, Kevin could see colorful cutouts of flowers and animals. Clouds and balls of sunshine acted as lights. It looked safe and inviting, fun for kids.

“This is it. One of the first things I did with my inheritance was buy this place.” Nadia drank from her cup and said, “Class doesn’t start for another half hour. Want a tour?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

Nadia led him through the interior of the building, gesturing to rooms with her free hand. As they walked, she told him a little about her non-profit. “We do art classes and music lessons. The dance classes are really recent. We had to find teachers willing to work for free.” The two of them laughed and Nadia continued with, “But it’s working out well. I have dancers from Alvin Alley, from Dance Theater of Harlem. These kids _will_ know their culture.”

“That’s … _wow._ ” Kevin stopped in front of what he assumed was the dance studio. It was a large wood with light wood floors and a high ceiling. In the room was a stereo, a piano and a violin. On one wall there was a large mirror. On the other, ballet barres. “This is great!”

“Isn’t it?” Nadia said, glowing.

Not long after, the sound of little children filled the building. Feet ran up the steps and into the dance studio. Kevin was won over immediately by the cacophony of noise and excitement. The kids were allowed a while to play around but after a while, two slender dancer-like adults stepped in and took control.

Like magic, the kids exchanged their noisy excitement for a grave seriousness. They stretched, rehearsed old dance moves and practiced a few routines they had learned. Nadia introduced the class of kids to Kevin, telling them with a conspiratorial whisper that he was a knight. That won him a lot of a fans. The kids suggested that they do a dance for Kevin, and he was not disappointed. A short ballet and hip-hop routine later, Kevin was applauding the little dancers.

After that, Nadia and Kevin stepped back and watched as the kids enjoyed their free dance time. The scene felt familiar to him. He could remember being that small and loving to move and sing but being afraid to. He also remembered a boy who was too small, too innocent to know to be afraid. He smiled.

Nadia saw his smile and went, “Feeling nostalgic?”

“We used to have dance classes like this in Miami,” he told her. “Just big mirrors and music. Sometimes they’d give us a lil’ routine to do but most times it just kids and some soul. We loved it.”

“I wish I had that as a child.” Nadia held her arms, looking embarrassed to be saying the words out loud. “I was in rigid ballet classes since I could walk. Mum wanted me to be a prima ballerina, but I would’ve loved that freedom.”

Kevin wrinkled up his face. “Nadia, I like you and all, but the ‘poor rich girl’ act? That’s gotta go.”

“Poor rich girl?”

“You know, ‘woe is me. Mommy gave me two ponies instead of six’? ‘I could afford ballet classes and it made me sad?’ Your feelings are valid, but let it go."

Understanding, blushing, Nadia said, “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be. We don’t choose where we’re born or who we’re born too. All we can choose our attitudes about it.”

“And what’s your attitude?”

Kevin sighed at that and thought it over. “Grateful. Knew kids a lot like these.” He gestured to the class of dancing kids. “Some came from bad parents, some came from no parents at all. I was poor as hell, but I had both parents, we had a house. It was better than most.”

Nadia hummed. “I see why Samantha liked you.”

“Other than my wicked good looks?”

“I’m a little too lesbian to respond to that,” was her response. “But you are funny and you are very kind. KJ gets a lot from you.”

“He does, doesn’t he? He’s a good kid.”

“The best,” Nadia agreed. “Even when he’s pushing bugs on me, I can’t be mad. He’s so adventurous and open. Did he already tell you he wanted to be an entomologist?”

“He _did_. Is Samantha really going to get ‘im that beetle?”

Nadia and her grimace answered the question for him. “She promised. We’re trying not to break promises with him.”

He doesn’t know why, but the statement stung some. “That’s good.”

Nadia looked to him and said, “And we’re trying to be honest with him, too. Completely honest.”

That _definitely_ stung some. “I’m not going to hurt him.”

“Not on purpose, you wouldn’t. But accidents happen. KJ and Sam were so lonely. She’ll never say this, not to you, not to KJ, but Sam felt hopeless. Nobody wanted to lend a hand because she was a teenage mother. Her family didn’t help.” She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “I don’t want them to be hurt again.”

In the dance studio, Kevin saw a different side of Nadia. When they first met, he thought she was all put together, flawless. He know saw that she was scared as anyone else and cautious, and careful about her heart and the people around her. She’d do anything to protect KJ and Samantha. Even if it meant, he wasn’t in the picture.

Kevin nodded. “I understand.” 

Nadia exhaled. “I’m sorry. They’re just _so_ important to me.”

“I know and I get it.” Kevin put a hand on Nadia’s shoulder and said, “You’re really good for them Nadia.”

She let out a breath of laughter, looked at him over a lifted shoulder and said, “I know.”

* * *

 When Kevin came home that afternoon, a light snow had begun. Drops of white fell on his head and shoulders like powdered sugar. He was feeling light on his feet after the dance class and speaking to Nadia. They came to a truce — they both love and care for Samantha and KJ, and they’d be fair to each other. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

Kevin stepped into the foyer and threw the keys into their basket. He saw there was a stack of mail on the floor. He flipped through coupons, junk mail and old magazine subscriptions his parents had. He made a mental note to have them cancelled and then tossed all but the coupons away.

Caught between the junk mail was a plain white envelope. It fluttered out around his feet, a deadly viper falling too close. Annoyed and anxious, Kevin opened it over the garbage can. He read it through, slow and then quicker. Each sentence was lined with threats and expletives, anger and bile seeping through the pages. Kevin’s hands shook. He had to go to someone about this. He had to say something, but who would believe him? People might align him with the person of the letters, accuse him of inventing this for the sake of scandal.

Feeling sick and off balance, Kevin took himself to living room to lie down. As late afternoon shifted to evening, his thoughts wandered back to the slum beaches Miami. All black, brackish water and littered sand and not a strip of moonlight. 


End file.
